


Unsent

by roswyrm



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Letters, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Spoilers, bc zolf is a Disaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 08:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14588592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roswyrm/pseuds/roswyrm
Summary: Zolf Smith, former leader of The London Rangers (we’re still working on the name), has a hotel near Prague, along with a pen and some paper.He’s also got regrets, whiskey, and some words he’d like to put down on said paper.





	Unsent

**Author's Note:**

> there is nothing [NOTHING] in this fandom so it is my own, godgiven duty, to give you fools this stupid angst because of a joke BENJAMIN MEREDITH made that got edited out.

It's far too late for Zolf to be awake. Honestly, it might be half-past two in the morning, and all he can do is stare at the piece of paper on the hotel’s table.

**Dear Sasha,**  
**I’m sorry for leaving. If you know where you’ll be, would you send me your**

He balls up the letter and throws it at the wastebasket. It bounces off his last seventeen million attempts. Most of them are to Sasha. Sasha is safe to write to. She's only slightly less awkward than him, and they built up a camaraderie out of the lack of other people who could relate to how difficult people are. Or something like that. He sighs and starts over.

**Dear Sasha,**  
**I hope you're getting on well. When I left, I might have been a little too heated to make the right decision. If I could re-do anyth**

”No. God, no. _Hamid_ would think that's too soppy.” Hamid. Hamid, who cried for Zolf when he lost his other leg. Hamid, who cried into Zolf’s shoulder when he’d been far too drunk and far too angry to make a rational decision. Hamid, who cried a _lot._ Hamid, who had clung to Zolf desperately, asking him to ”Just have a bite to eat! I’m sure you’ll feel better after some dinner!” Zolf sighs heavily. His pen scratches,

**Dear Hamid,**  
**I cannot stop thinking about you. Ever since I left, I’ve regretted it. I’ll**

No. No, that's not something you send to your friend. That isn't _safe._ The dwarf pinches the bridge of his nose before crunching up the letter and throwing it blindly across the room. He says a word that is most certainly not fiddlesticks.

**Dear Hamid,**  
**I hope you don't think I left because I hated you. I could never hate you. I was just scared of what might happen if I were to snap. You’re pretty important to me and**

**Dear Hamid,**  
**I’ve had a couple of meals, and I think I’m in a better state of mind. If you’d have me, I think I’d like to**

**Dear Hamid,**  
**I think you were one of my first genuine friends since**

**Dear Ber**

He crumples the letter, rips it into bits, and throws the bits out the window. He may be drunk, but he’s not wasted enough to think that writing a never-to-be-sent letter to a man he tried to kill is anywhere near a good idea. He takes another swig of the whiskey. 

He’s not wasted _yet._

**Dear Hamid,**  
**I miss you a lot sometimes. You were an awful lot like a moral compass for me. Except we always fought over**

**Dear Hamid,**  
**You wouldn't even have to get rid of Bertie. I’ll come back, even if he’s still there. I miss**

**Dear Bertie,**  
**You're an arse, and I hate you for fooling Hamid into thinking you’re not. I hate you for trying to ruin Campbell’s books. I hate you for**

**Dear Hamid,**  
**I was a bit drunk when I said I needed to leave. I’m a bit drunk now, and I want to come back. You're all important to me. I can’t sleep well knowing that you and Sasha are alone with Bertie. He can be a handful, and you’re terrible at saying no to him. I can’t blame you, though. Some people are hard to say no to. When you asked me to stay, it took everything not to. I only left because I didn't want to hurt you. I’m not a good leader. Hell, I’m not a good person half of the time. But I’d come back to the Rangers (we could keep working on the name) as a healer if it meant I’d get to see you again. You helped me get up again; you helped me move through a crisis. I miss you. I miss you a lot. Way more than I thought I would miss a short, oddly handsome halfling who couldn't go two seconds without prestidigitating himself clean again. Not to say I thought I wouldn't miss you. I knew I’d miss you the most. But I thought if I thought of all the things you've done that made me mad, I’d care less. But every time I get angry, I remember when you sat next to me in Paris. I remember when you found me in the brewery. Would you let me back in? I know I’m a rubbish leader, but**

Zolf wakes up the next morning (afternoon) with ink smudges on his fingers and a blurred, touchy-feely letter half stuck to his face. He washes the parchment out of his beard and re-plaits it. He soaks the letter in his makeshift altar and mutters to Poseidon, ”Haven't been able to find anyone worth drowning, but I’ll sacrifice my stupid feelings.” 

Zolf has dreams of a man made of golden sand. Every night, the man reaches out a hand to take Zolf’s. Every night, Zolf scrabbles for the hand desperately. Every night, Zolf is dragged away from him.

Every morning, he wakes up with tears dripping onto the sappy letter he was trying to compose the night before.

•°•°•

_Dear Zolf,_  
_Things are going well. We’ve finally worked on the name! I hope you don’t mind too much ~~if you~~ when you come back, but we’ve changed our name to the ”London  & Other London Outstanding Mercenary Group”, or the L.O.L.O.M.G. I don't think there's anything else associated with that acronym. We've picked up a Paladin of Artemis named Grizzop. Bertie’s started getting along with his sword now, though I’m not sure that's a good thing. And Sasha keeps trying to get right next to Bertie. I don’t get it! She knows what his personality is like, she should be running the other direction! I’m sure it’ll all work out though. She isn't his type, after all! Hahaha._

_I miss you, and I hope you come back soon._

_Patiently yours,_  
_Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan_

Hamid wipes a tear off of his cheek and it drips onto the parchment. Very carefully, the halfling folds it up and presses it into his collection of unsent letters. It is a very large collection, stored throughout several different shoeboxes.

Two shoeboxes are labelled, “ _To Gideon_.”  
Five are labelled, “ _To Father_.”  
Zolf only has one shoebox of letters, but it’s looking like there’ll be quite a few more if he keeps writing every night.

Hamid sighs deeply, places the lid back onto the shoebox, and goes to sleep before anybody can ask him what's taking so long.

**Author's Note:**

> go listen to Rusty Quill Gaming it’s very very good.  
> you can find me on tumblr @roswell-the-wrongdoer  
> please love me.


End file.
